


The End of the World

by galaxysoup



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-22
Updated: 2004-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:21:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22533160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxysoup/pseuds/galaxysoup
Summary: The tale of a Tollan.
Kudos: 5





	The End of the World

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to [The Comfort Zone](http://www.sg1hc.com/main.shtml) fanfic archive.

In the back times, his mother's dreams would have been hailed as prophecy. She would have been sequestered in one of the temples to the ancient gods, tending the oracle, or would have perhaps even become the oracle herself. Her visions would have helped to guide her people. 

But Tollan was a technological world now. Dreams had no place in the cities and the laboratories, and Omoc's mother was called crazy instead of a savior. 

Omoc didn't want to believe his mother's dreams. He resented them - resented each time she staggered from her bed chamber, wild-eyed and tousled from sleep, babbling crazily about fire rain and the end of the world. He looked around him at all the sophisticated things his people had created and seriously doubted they would be overcome by any natural phenomenon. He listened to her ranting, because he was her son and she loved him, but he did not believe. 

"Sereta will begin the end," she told him, clutching his arm with strong fingers. "They will bring the fire rain. Tollan will be a world of ashes." 

Omoc had frowned. Sereta was a primitive world. They had no technology with which to bring fire rain on their own world, let alone someone else's. Their greatest scientific accomplishment to date was an clumsy, leaky, unmanned spacecraft that needed to be fixed far more than it had ever actually flown. He was told its creation had been cause for celebrations that had gone on for days. 

When the Council proposed to make contact with Sereta, Omoc thought nothing of it. It seemed a trivial thing; after all, the Tollan had been traveling the galaxy for generations. They had made contact with many people less advanced than they were. Sereta was a little closer, but other than that there was no real difference. 

Several months later, Omoc stood in Tollan's once-proud paved courtyards and watched the fire rain fall. He watched as Tollan became a world of ashes. His mother had died several years before, and he had mourned her, but as he saw the buildings burn and the people flee he found himself missing her for the first time. He wanted to tell her that he finally believed. 

* * *

"Travelers will come through the Great Circle," his mother said, falling back on ancient terminology as if that appeal to the distant past would somehow validate her insanity. "They will rescue you." 

"Well, that's good," Omoc said absently. 

His mother's eyes crinkled with sadness. "Oh, Omoc," she said. "I did not say they would save you. Tollana must find its own salvation." 

"Tollan, Mother," he said wearily. "Our world is called Tollan." 

* * *

When Omoc awoke in the Earth infirmary, for a moment he thought he'd been transported into the past. It was with a certain amount of incredulity that he recognized another one of his mother's prophecies coming true. 

These people were so primitive. How could they possibly be the heralds of Tollana's end? 

Primitive, like Sereta. Sereta, that he'd discounted because of their infantile technology and embryonic grasp of the universe. Sereta, who had destroyed them. 

"They are not Sereta," Narim said sharply, staring after the pretty Captain-scientist with longing eyes. "Their minds may be primitive but their hearts are in the right place. They will not destroy themselves." 

"It's not them I worry about," Omoc said softly, but Narim did not hear him. He was too busy petting the cat. 

* * *

"Do not hate the travelers," his mother said. "While they herald the end, they will make possible Tollana's salvation." 

"The one that will only come with its destruction?" Omoc asked skeptically. 

His mother sighed and poured herself some tea. "Ask Lya if you don't believe me." 

Omoc rested his head on the table and prayed for patience. "Mother, we don't know anyone named Lya." 

"You haven't met her yet." 

* * *

"I am Lya, of the Nox. Welcome to our world," the woman said gravely. She spoke to them all but her eyes were fixed on Omoc. 

"I was told I would meet you." He watched her carefully, waiting for her derision as the others wandered off to explore their temporary home. 

Lya smiled sadly. "I know." 

"My mother could see the future," he said hopelessly, giving her one last chance to disprove him. Lya placed a gentle hand on Omoc's arm, right where his mother used to grip him with such surprising strength when he refused to believe. 

"I know," she said. 

* * *

"You will like Tollana." 

"Thank the skies," Omoc said dryly, putting down his reader. "I'd hate to end up on a world I despised." 

His mother tapped her teeth with her fingernail, staring vaguely out the window. "It will be a nice place to die." 

* * *

Omoc did not visit the travelers from Earth when they came for Triad. He listened patiently to Narim's woes after each conversation with now-Major Carter and sat alone in his new Tollanan living room while Teal'c and Lya saved his people from the Goa'uld. 

Tollana was a nice world, like his mother had promised. But his mother had died on Tollan. The dying on Tollana, he realized, would be done by him. 

Omoc did not go to Triad. He had no desire to see the heralds of the end again. 

* * *

"So how will Tollan be saved?" Omoc asked. His mother, weak and ill, gave him a knowing look and he flushed. He was humoring her and she knew it. 

"Tollan will not be saved," his mother said patiently. "Tollana will. After a manner of speaking." 

"And I suppose you tell me these things because I must do the saving?" 

His mother patted his hand consolingly. "No, dear. Narim will." 

Omoc raised his eyebrows. "Narim?" He knew a Narim, a young man just starting out in the government. Nice enough, bright, but a little naive. He supposed Narim did sort of fit with the old heroic tales. 

* * *

"You must be joking," Omoc said desperately, staring at Travell in growing horror. 

"I am not," she said coldly. "This is the only way." 

He banged the table with one hand. "No, it isn't! We cannot deal with the Goa'uld! It goes against everything we stand for!" 

Travell gave him a pitying look. "Times have changed, Omoc." 

Omoc shook his head. "Not this much. I refuse to believe we've fallen this far." 

Travell's face hardened. "That's enough, Omoc." 

Omoc stood, suddenly very calm. "I will not sit by while you destroy our world." 

Travell stood as well. "I am /saving/ our world!" 

Omoc shook his head sadly and walked to the door. "No, you aren't." 

* * *

Omoc felt the chest pains when he got back to his house. He glanced automatically at his health monitor, but the screen was suspiciously blank. 

He fell to his knees, his heart constricting painfully. As he slumped to the ground, his last thought was that if he had to die somewhere, Tollana was nice enough. 

It was all up to Narim now. 

<I>THE END</I>


End file.
